In the twelfth lunar month of winter, the wind and snow are as sharp as a knife. Severe pain was the only thing Shen Jingque felt after regaining consciousness. It was as if all the limbs and bones had been torn apart and reassembled, and every breath involved the burning wounds on his back. She opened her eyes with difficulty, her vision was blurred, and what she saw was a depressing dark red. The strange smell of inferior wood and blood lingered on the tip of her nose. Didn't she... Didn't she work overtime at the company all night and die suddenly on her desk?
